Neo Tyranny
by Frost
Summary: Nine years since the horrors of Raccoon City, the war between Umbrella and STARS has only intensified, but now there is another player entering the game, one who may be more ruthless than Umbrella itself...
1. First Confusion

_Fire, _

_The sun is well asleep, _

_Moon is high above, _

_Fire grows from the east; _

_How is this, _

_Hate so deep, _

_Lead us all so blindly killing killing; _

_Fools we are, _

_If hate's the gate to peace, _

_This is the last stop... _

--Dave Matthews Band, "The Last Stop" 

***** 

**HCF Headquarters  
San Mateo, California  
November 12th, 2007 **

_10:00 am _

The room was like any other corporate conference room. However, the attitude of the meeting was quite different from that of any software or car company. The directors were all sworn to secrecy about what was to be discussed today. However, even if they were not forced to do so, their mouths were sealed. Planning the hostile takeover of another company, especially since they were planning to destroy Umbrella in every sense of the word, would be tough if someone had loose lips. 

All eight directors were already in their seats and were waiting for the head of HCF to arrive. Dr. John Elliott liked to make an entrance, and damn well deserved to be allowed to do that; he made the company what it was, and not a single director could summon a bad thought against him, likewise with any employee of the Horizon Chemical Foundation. 

A door hissed open, and Elliott walked into the room, standing at the head of the table. "Good morning, everyone." 

There were two doors that served as the entrance into the conference room. One was just a regular wooden board, probably made with polished pine or some other cheaper wood. The other, a double-door, was made of dark-polished oak and was void of doorknobs. The doors were controlled by a remote, one that only Dr. Elliott possessed. Paranoia at times would run high on the upper rungs of the corporate ladder, but that was to be expected with the sort of things that HCF was planning. Umbrella was known for their bio-engineering discoveries and advances, but they had taken it beyond the boundaries of the law. 

Infecting humans and other animals with the infamous T-Virus, and later on with the G-Virus, they became sloppy before any of their perfect plans could bloom. Umbrella's biggest failure was not containing the old mansion in Raccoon City before the hybrids broke out and revealed themselves to the public in mid-July of 1996. The city's local SWAT team, the Special Tactics And Rescue Squad, the STARS, investigated and ended up losing one team their first time into the mansion. The second time, they ended up getting the mansion destroyed, due to the fact that one of the STARS was a traitor. _An Albert Wesker, I think his name was. _

The mansion was in reality a front. Under the mansion was a massive laboratory where the T-Virus was developed and tested. But for some reason, the infected humans got out and either killed or infected every single living thing, including dogs, crows, plants, inside and around the mansion. It was a surprise that Umbrella had not either gotten the situation under control or destroyed the place altogether without having to worry about the STARS getting involved. Since then, Umbrella had started on a downward spiral, and HCF was also helping in closing the gap between the two corporations. 

HCF had at first started out as a chemical company. Mostly medical chemicals, with the occasional preservative were manufactured there. After Umbrella's screw-up in '96, HCF had gotten ahold of research on the T-Virus and ran test after test with the infected to see if there was some sort of antidote that could reverse the mutation from human to hybrid that resembled a zombie, and ended up in succeeding. But by that time, the T-Virus was declared obsolete by Umbrella and had developed the G-Virus, which was much less contagious than its predecessor. 

Unfortunately, the creator of the G-Virus, Dr. William Birkin, had refused to give up the samples to Umbrella until he had perfected it, and would then sell it to them for a good sum of money. Not unreasonable, but enough to allow Birkin to retire whenever he wanted to. 

Umbrella didn't feel the same way. 

After breaking into the facility under the streets of Raccoon City in 1998, where the good doctor worked, they managed to shoot him numerous times, but that only forced Birkin to inject the G-Virus into his body. While the virus was a mutagen, it could also regenerate damaged tissue. So while it healed the bullet wounds, it also made him into a massive bio-weapon. _Some rookie cop killed him back then, oh, what was his name? Something Kennedy. _

Unfortunately for HCF, all traces of the G-Virus was destroyed when Raccoon City was bombed and completely wiped off the map. _No biggie. We have more than enough of Umbrella's research to work on some other projects that they couldn't do with their quickly diminishing budget._ After the recent incidents a few years ago at the Ashford island, Elliott decided that it was time to crank up the heat on Umbrella and start finishing them off for good. 

"Tom, let's kick this off with our accounting report," John suggested. 

Thomas Richmond nodded and straightened the small stack of papers in his hands. Putting on his reading spectacles, he looked at the figures in front of him. "Well, as some of you may know, we were recently given a nice sum of money from a very wealthy man, billionaire Lance Porter." 

"AMD Demon creator, Lance Porter?" Mark Young, the Director of Public Affairs, inquired. 

"Yes, he was the main designer of the Demon processor," Tom nodded in agreement, "but for the record, it wasn't AMD's. He developed it in an AMD station, but had already forced them to allow him to sell his processor to anyone, so it's just called the Demon." 

"I see." 

"Maybe you do." 

Elliott held up a hand. "Anyway, to what reason is Porter giving us this money?" 

Tom adjusted his glasses. "It was a payment on a debt that he owed us, although it was not nearly as much as he gave us. When he was working on the prototype of the Demon, we fronted him the money to complete his project, in exchange for a free line of the processors to put into our own computers and on our servers. When the processor hit big time, he did as well, and decided that we needed to be compensated for our help. 

John nodded. "I'll be sure to thank him. How're our figures working?" 

"Well, let's go back to when we merged with Tylenol," Richmond continued. "That's sometime in early 2004. Balance: Twenty-eight billion dollars. Late '04, we started making advances and enhanced the effectiveness of aspirin. We had thirty-nine billion then. For early 2005, our stock split and went sky-high after we put out a new treatment that totally erased the need for chemotherapy. We went up to seventy billion then. And now we've been getting lots of sponsors recently wanting to put a name on whatever new developments we get." 

"And let's not mention the fact that we've been taking chunks out of Umbrella," Dr. Elliott added. 

"That also helped," Tom agreed. "Our current balance is approximately eighty-point-four billion dollars." 

That got a low whistle out of a couple of the younger directors. John grunted in amusement. "What about your estimates on Umbrella?" 

Richmond gave his boss a sly smile. "In early 1995, before the Raccoon City incident, they were huge, and they had around ninety-four billion dollars to use with as they wished. Early this year, they lost over two-thirds of their company to law suits and government interference and radical extremists trying to do all they can to sabotage any experiment they were developing, and with the STARS' quest to destroy just about every facility in the US and Europe, they've been given no quarter by anybody." 

"Balance estimate?" Elliott asked. 

Tom gave them a mischievous grin. "Twenty-one billion." 

John sat back in his padded leather chair. "Wow. We've really got 'em by the balls, don't we?" 

The accountant adjusted his glasses for the second time. "Uh, yes, sir, I would have to say that we do. At this rate, we could very well be able to finish 'em off by early 2009, earlier if something drastic happens." 

The head of HCF smiled at the thought of striking the lethal blow against Umbrella. _Then it'll be our turn to step up to the plate, and we won't strike out. _

"Okay, moving on. Research and Development. We're almost ready to publicly announce our change of venue into genetics, and we need something to show for it before we do." 

Dr. Edward Mayes raised his head up toward the cabinet members. "Right now we have some new developments on using specific human cells to clone single body parts, rather than an entire body. It looks much more acceptable in the public." 

John smiled knowingly. "Okay, now what's the _real_ project?" 

Mayes returned his smile in full. "We've been making large amounts of advances in the research of bacteriophage, and we have been able to refine it to have a much more broad host base." 

Elliott knew what he was talking about, because he himself had a Ph.D in bio-engineering, but he had a feeling that the others were having trouble grasping it. "Okay, Eddie, elaborate. But remember, bad english only, let's not try to decipher doctor-speak." 

The Director of Research and Development chuckled along with the rest of the cabinet, then continued. "All righty, here we go. Many viruses are host-specific; they can only infect a specific kind of cell, such as bacterial cells, human brain cells, or sheep liver cells. Bacteriophage, if you haven't figured it out by listening to the name, infects only bacteria cells. We aren't worried about that, however, because with some tweaking, we can widen its selection of host cells. What we are more interested in is the actual makeup of the virus. The virus itself is a protein crystal with a DNA core. Once the crystal touches a cell-membrane, it dissolves and allows the viral nucleic-acid to enter the cell. The cell immediately absorbs the viral genome into its own DNA. The new genes take over the cell's functions and the cell manufactures dozens of new viral crystals and DNA strings. These crystal shells combine with the new DNA copies to form new viruses; the viruses dissolve the host cell, infect neighboring cells, and begin the cycle again. 

"So far, there has been no publicly known virus capable of infecting all cells; such a virus would theoretically infect the whole ecosystem if it were to be released in an airborne form. Umbrella's T-Virus appeared to be the closest thing to such a virus," Mayes' eyes scanned around the oval oaken table, and met each and every one of the directors' amazed stare. "Unfortunately, Umbrella destroyed all traces of the T-Virus when the FBI began to investigate into their experiments, so we cannot say for certain one hundred percent that the virus was a form of bacteriophage." 

"But you've been able to re-create the success of the T-Virus through this altered virus," Elliott sipped his water. 

"We're not far from building a perfect clone of the T-Virus, if our speculation was correct and Umbrella had used bacteriophage as the template for it." 

"Whoa, back up the truck," a deep voice from the far end of the table said. The man spoke softly, but the sound rumbled throughout the room. 

Elliott looked at the aging but still fit Darnell Wallace. Wallace, the Director of Security, held up a hand just high enough to get everyone's attention. The ebony-skinned man waited until all were looking right at him before he spoke in a voice that could make James Earl Jones crumble. "Just exactly why are we creating such a virus?" 

Before the over-articulate Dr. Mayes could reply, Elliott gave the answer. "Umbrella is giving our entire industry a bad name. They're experimenting on the innocent, to create things that prey on even more unsuspecting innocents. We cannot let that happen. Not only do we need to destroy the threat, we must also show to the world that while what they did was wrong, the actual ideas they had to generate these creatures were not. By cloning humans, and using those clones for our experiments, in the eye of the public, we hope to not be seen as monsters. If anyone asks, we just say that we take the DNA composition of humans and alter it, so that when it grows and matures, it was never a clone in the first place, thus eliminating any problem from the authorities. But our goal, most of all, is to take those bastards from Umbrella down. This… T-Virus clone, if you will, is going to be the one thing that could save our industry." 

Wallace nodded slowly. John smiled, the gears in his head working full speed. _So, next order of business..._ "Are we still in touch with our friends in Russia?" 

All eyes turned to Brian Morrison, the head of Foreign Affairs. He nodded confidently. "The Red Wolves Faction are still in contact with us, but why would we want to contact them?" 

"Insurance, my boy, insurance. We use them to cause trouble to our competition, while we find some new friends in Eurasia and see what they can do for us." 

Richmond raised his eyebrows. "Why do we need to find a friend in Eurasia? We've got eighty billion dollars." 

John shook his head. "We don't need the money; you're right. But we are an American-based company. By getting friends overseas, we have more power. And let me tell you, once we land on Europe and Asia, there won't be a single thing that can stop us from completely obliterating Umbrella off the map."

  
  


**San Francisco University  
San Francisco, California  
December 6th 2007 **

  
  


Sherry walked through the San Francisco University campus with urgency in her step. It had been nine years since that nightmare that had cost Sherry her entire family, nine years since Raccoon city had been over-run by monsters that fed off the flesh of others.....nine years since she had been pulled from the mouth of hell by 2 other survivors. Nine years later, and it was all starting to happen again. 

Several weeks ago, a freshman had been attacked when he was jogging at night by what he described as a 'rabid dog'. Last week, a lost tourist had been wandering around, and had stopped to ask for directions, and claimed he almost got mugged by some freak in a Halloween costume. Last night, however, was the worst. A sophomore co-ed who lived on the top floor of Sherry's dorm, had been mauled to death and dismembered. Police were only able to find 40% of the remains, and the corner ruled her death as "A vicious assault from a cannibalistic cult." 

The pieces fit too perfectly to be a coincidence. Sherry knew that if she didn't do something fast, the university, and perhaps the entire bay area, was going to end up being plunged into chaos. Sherry pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed the number she had so many times before and waited for the other end to pick up. 

"...Hello?" came a seemingly distracted voice on the other end. 

"Claire... It's happening again... It's..." but Sherry froze as she could hear panting, and a slight growl from behind her. She slowly turned around to come face to face with one of the things that had been haunting her for years. The beast looked as though it could have been a german shepherd at one time, but was missing too much skin and muscle mass in various parts of it's body to be called anything else but a monster. 

"Sherry, _what's_ going on, again? Sherry? _Sherry!_" 

Claire screamed into the handset, but Sherry had already dropped her phone, running from demons past and present.

  
  


  
  


Claire put the phone down with a frustrated click. It was not her nature to hesistate - immediately rolling the chair out from under her desk, she walked to the front of the STARS office to grab her coat rather noisily. Jill Valentine, adjusting her glasses, shuffled through some paperwork at her own desk. With the sudden commotion, she raised her head, looking up at Claire with concern. The woman at the office door turned around, simply returning an anxious glance slightly obscured by a brown ponytail. 

"Jill, it's Sherry. Something... seems to be up," she managed to utter, trying to hide her insecurity in a show of stoic strength. "Do you think that... " 

Jill calmly put down her papers, and adjusted her glasses. All too often, Jill understood what Sherry meant to Claire. A strong bond formed between the two when they escaped together from the ravages of Raccoon City and the madness of Dr. William Birkin, and in their years together, had only grown closer - especially since Claire had little to call family anymore. Jill was sometimes envious; Sherry had grown up to be a very intelligent, and independent young girl with a keen interest in philosophy, but more than anything she loved Claire. Jill, herself suffering from the losses in the battle against Umbrella, instead poured herself into her work at STARS, and quickly ascended the ranks to captain. At Claire's request, she was assigned to the San Francisco branch. It was a labor of love and sacrifice, and it was something that she could share together with those that... survived. 

"It's been a couple of months... the CIA could get a fix on someone in even less time if they wanted to, so I'm not surprised," Jill said, matter-of-factly. "Maybe they don't know she's here yet... after all, we suspected this place had some activity." 

"Just when things were going our way," Claire muttered, more to herself than to her concerned friend. "She could have finally had a normal life. I don't like having her move all the time... she never gets a chance to make friends." 

Jill tapped the papers into place against the top of her oaken desk, and stood up from her executive black leather chair to put the files into their proper cabinet drawers. Locking the file cabinet with a satisfying click, she turned around, facing Claire. 

"We've got them on the ropes, Claire," Jill said, offering a sympathetic smile. "If anything, they're afraid of us, now. I'm sure Sherry's fine... she just got caught in the crossfire." 

Claire nodded, but Jill's assurance was not enough for her. She had to see with her own eyes that Sherry was okay.


	2. The Mist Settles

**Univeristy of San Francisco**

**San Francisco, California**

  


  


Night. It's the time when the secrets are unveiled, when the darkness comes into light. It's the time to face your fear. 

  
  


"Isaac, what are you doing here?" 

The technician raised his head to look at the person who had addressed him. She was a tall, blond-haired woman, and her hazel eyes looked at him inquiringly. 

"Oh... Hi, Susan." 

He let out a groan as he stretched his back. After being bent over a computer for the last couple of hours, his spine was not in good condition. 

"They called me here to fix some of the servers." 

"Yeah, they've been moody lately. Keep switching the controls on and off without warning." 

Susan waved her hand vaguely at the many test tubes lined on a shelf. The valves that controlled the flux of chemicals were connected to a network cable, which divided and linked to a dozen computers. 

"The lab's lost a good deal of medical material. Think you can fix it?" 

Isaac, who had plunged once again into the disassembled machine, extracted a small chip from within as he stood upright. 

"Hm. 'Demon' processor. Very good ones. I don't think this is the problem." He turned back to Susan. "Tell me, have you experienced any trouble with the network?" 

"No. Not really." 

"Well... I'll take these parts to test them back at the Info Sector." He pulled out another chip board and put it into his bag. "I'll see what I can do. These 'Demon' only work with a particular line of parts. Replacing them won't be cheap." 

Susan sighed. "More funding matters. I really hope you can do it." 

  
  


Isaac stepped out of the room, and went up the stairs, relieved that he was finally free of the constant surveillance in the Medical Sector. As he crossed the campus, the fresh night breeze blew his dark hair, and his thoughts wandered from the research computers to the rumors that spread across the university. Walking dead, rabid dogs, even aliens sightings. Isaac chuckled. _People will believe anything, when they want to... _He took his ID card from his pocket and unlocked the door to his dorm with it. 

He barely noticed the light rotten smell that was drifting from behind the building. 

  
  


It was 3:00 AM already. The "Advanced Guide to Networking" lay on the floor, and on top of it was resting Isaac's arm. It took him some time to realize that he had dozed off on the bed while reading, and twice as long to realize why he had woken up. Someone was knocking on the door. Knocking? They seemed desperate to come in, nearly beating the hinges out of the doorframe. 

Isaac rolled on the bed. "Leave me alone... It's..." He tried to focus on the watch, and failed. "It's... Early morning!" 

But the pounding did not stop, it increased. Someone yelled from the outside. 

"It's me, Robert! Isaac, open up, dammit!" 

These words had no better effect than the slamming fists on the door. Isaac grumbled and prepared to fall asleep again. Robert was used to sneak out of class, or call people in the dead of the night to go smoke weed. There was no reason to take him seriously this time. Robert started screaming at the top of his lungs. More voices came from the door, deep grunts were barely audible under Robert's yells. 

The technician opened his eyes wide. Strange wet sounds came from the hallway, and the screaming died out. He stood up from his bed, looked at the door, swallowed hard, and spoke up. 

"What's going on there?" 

The door started shaking, as if someone were trying to pound it down. Torn between fear and curiosity, Isaac waited. 

The door at last gave away, and half a dozen people came in as it crashed on the floor. They smelled so strongly of decay that Isaac nearly passed out. As they drew nearer, their faces became visible... Or what was left of them. Large peels of skin were missing, the mouths were shapeless and bloodied. 

"What the hell..." 

  
  


A wild howl echoed through the night. Another followed, and then a third. 

Sherry looked around, realizing that she was cornered. Three dogs, skinless and red-eyed, were baring their fangs, growling at her. 

She turned to look at the wall behind her, and the only door that could be her escape. It was locked: a card reader was the only way to open the door to the dorms. 

"Help! Someone open up!" The girl began slamming her fists on the door, as the dogs drew closer. One of them leapt at her, drooling and aiming for the throat. Sherry braced for the worst... 

A hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled. the rabid dog tasted hard metal door, as a dark-haired young man slammed it shut. Sherry panted, and looked at him. 

"Thanks..." 

Isaac managed a smile, which Sherry did not return. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. 

"Do you know what's going on? What those things were?" 

"Yes, I know." Her face turned even more serious.

  
  


Brian Dylan West loved working in the Central Intelligence Agency. At the age of twenty-two, he had seen a lot of horrific things at such a young age, and being assigned to the Agency's Counter-BOW Division made the images only worse. Being placed in a position that allowed him to eliminate the terror that Umbrella stood for, however, only made him love his job more. 

  


West was the Agency's official liason to the NATO-Recognized STARS team - and the unofficial liason to the American-Recognized STARS (Specifically the San Francisco branch), as well, acting as a go-between whenever both teams were unable to send messages directly. He was also one of the few members of the Agency to have ever officially encountered a BOW. 

  
And the only one to have officially survived that encounter, the main reason why someone at his age was so high up the chain of command. 

He was an athletic young man, with dark blue eyes and a natural mix of blond and brown hair. Brian had left Langley when the first unofficial reports of BOW activity in the Bay Area reached his desk. Any activity near Sherry Birkin triggered all sorts of red flags, and the Director of Counter-BOW Operations couldn't argue with that fact, in the least. Little did the Director know that Brian had a small crush on Birkin, and took every opportunity presented to see her. With her life possibly in danger, West moved faster than ever, getting in one of the division's two private jets within four hours of receiving the report. 

West worked surveillance for the past two weeks, checking for any sort of BOW activity nearby. Using the resources of the station nearby, and with the assistance of Captain Valentine of the STARS, who was sworn to secrecy on his presence, here, he kept track of Birkin, and anyone she associated with. 

Then, on December the sixth, he became lax. He did this by deciding to switch to just audio surveillance, which fed into an earpiece, while he ran off to get his order of Chinese food._ Is there ever a good time to mention my sexual fetish with pork chow mien?_ He remembered joking to himself. 

About halfway to the chinese restaurant, in his silver Hyundai Santa Fe was where he heard the screaming, followed by the obligatory groaning of what was commonly referred to as zombies, and officially called "Class-1 Mutations." "Damn!" He had turned the wheel of the SUV sharply in a U-Turn at the intersection he had just approached, sending cars all about swerving away to avoid a collision with him. 

Getting on the radio, he brought up the frequency of the others supposedly on the university campus. "Deckard, Jones - someone talk to me. What the hell's going on, there...?" 

The reply was the sound of gunshots, along with the sound of sickening, moist chewing. The gunshots ended in a scream, and all was quiet over the channel. Brian hit the gas and sped down the street, taking out his Heckler and Koch USP Match 45 pistol, loading it up with specialized hollow-point bullets. He pulled back on the chamber and holstered it in his shoulder holster as he approached the university and readied himself for his second encounter with a bio-weapon.

  
  


The light brown Caprice sedan idled through the universities northern parking lot, and eased into an open parking space. Claire slid the transmission into park, and scanned the horizon in front of her. The engine purred smoothly, the quiet exhaust giving no indication of the true power contained under the hood. Claire shut the car down, slid the keys into her jeans pocket, and stepped out. Locking the door, Claire shut it tightly, then headed towards Sherries dorm at a hurried walk. The campus was devoid of activity, and quiet this evening... Too quiet for Claire. The only thing that Claire hoped right now was that it would stay quiet. No such luck... 

As she rounded the south-east corner of the astrophysics building, she heard light shuffling coming from behind a bush off to her right. The greenery rustled as something emerged from the brush....something Claire wished she would never see again....something that meant that the nightmare was starting all over again. Claire immediately pulled out one of her twin Desert Eagle .45's that she always kept with her, and took aim at the zombie. They had been the last thing that Chris had given her before he died, and she slept with them next to her bed to try and keep her brother close. Pushing memories of the past to the back of her mind, she calmly bore down on the zombie's head, and blew it clean off before the zombie even turned to face her. 

Continuing along the north side of the building, she redoubled her pace, knowing she had to make it to Sherry soon. Now almost running, she didn't see the outstretched arm laying on the ground until after she had tripped over it. Picking herself up quickly, she brought her weapon up, looked past the barrel of her Desert Eagle, down the outstretched arm, and into the half eaten face of.... 

"Deckard… Son of a bitch... Why did you have to go and get yourself killed?" She asked, but wasn't able to ponder her question for long, as low pitched growling started to emanate from behind her. She slowly rotated a half circle, turning away from the building, and found herself face to face with three canine type (Also Known as Class-2) BOWs. 'I don't have time for this' she thought to herself, as she leveled the barrel, and obliterated the first one to charge. The other two quickly fell in similar fashion, and Claire, continued at an all out run, hoping she wasn't already too late.

  
  


The silence was frightening. The cafeteria was usually lively and noisy, but now it had the atmosphere of an eerie graveyard. 

"We'll have to find something for your arm." 

Isaac looked at his left shoulder, which was bleeding profusely. Escaping from his tight room had not been easy, and the monsters had taken a piece of him with them. 

"It's okay... I can handle it for now." 

"Okay, then. Let's go." 

He nodded and followed Sherry's lead, as she stepped out of the kitchen and began to edge around the corner of the building. 

"Do you know where we are going?" 

"Yes, there's a staircase that could take us up the Philosophy sector, over there." She pointed across the parking lot, where a tall building overlooked the campus. 

Isaac nodded again. "So, we could find an unblocked way to the exit. Sounds like a good plan." 

He poked his head around the wall, making sure that nothing would interrupt them as they took an exposed path among the parked cars. 

"The coast is clear..." 

Treading as lightly she could, Sherry looked around. The darkness that obscured everything beyond the light posts was making her imagination play tricks on her. It was as if someone was constantly observing.   
"What's wrong?" 

"It's... Nothing. My nerves are a wreck, that's it. I thought I..." Sherry hesitated. Had she actually seen or heard anything? No. But still... 

A low voice interrupted her thoughts. 

"Did you hear that?" 

Isaac halted and listened. "Yeah. Over there." He motioned Sherry to follow him, as he walked towards a guard shack. The voice coming from within belonged to a woman, agitated and nervous. She spoke again. 

"What about my security? It could make a mistake and target me instead!" 

A crackling voice responded, coming from a radio. It was strangely low and kept changing pitch. 

"Don't worry. It will not target you. The G-sensor will ensure that." 

The woman paused, and mumbled something. The voice over the radio seemed to ignore that and continued. 

"Have you gotten all the evidence yet?" 

"Nearly all of them. Some were taken away for repair; they thought the computers were malfunctioning." 

"Then find them, as soon as you can! Those chips could be the center piece of this business." 

"I'll try." 

"Trying may not be good enough. Remember that." 

The transmission seemed to be fading. Isaac and Sherry could not hear everything of what was said, and tried to get closer to the door. Intent on not being spotted, Isaac tripped over something and fell onto a nearby trashcan. 

The woman inside the shack gasped. "What was that? I... I have to go. Out!" A door slammed inside the shack, and silence followed. 

"Are you okay?" Sherry offered her hand to help Isaac stand. 

"I'm fine. Sorry..." 

Sherry turned to look at the object that had ruined their attempt at stealth, and froze. It was an arm. Bloodied, pale, and without a body attached to it. 

"Oh my God... What did this?" 

The answer came soon enough. A howl announced the arrival of a large Beagle, twice its normal size, with long fangs that dripped with blood. 

"Sh*t, run!" Isaac forced Sherry around and pushed her. "Don't just stand there!" 

But Sherry did not move, for what she saw on top of the cafeteria building was even worse of the monster behind. An enormous figure stood there, and glowered down at the two humans in the parking lot. 

As the Cerberus leapt at Sherry's throat, she managed to shake herself out of the horror and dodged. A growl of displeasure announced a new attack, but this time the Beagle was dead before he could taste blood. 

The huge humanoid landed heavily on the floor and grasped the dog by the neck, squeezing it. The head burst and brain matter splattered on the floor. Sherry and Isaac were struck by their saviour, but soon realized that the monster's intentions had not been friendly. 

It opened a mouth, lipless and lined with razor-like teeth, and spoke with a deep grunt. 

"Birkin..."

  
  


Mike was making his rounds again around the hallways of the campus. He pulled out his mop and began to clean the gritty, unpolished supposed marble floors of the hall outside the library. He had his headphones in, listening to Metallica and using the mop as a guitar. He mumbled and grunted out the words to Enter Sandman as he looked at the now mirror-like image on the floor. 

  


"Heh heh...yes siree! This mop'll clean anything those little bastards leave behind!" 

Suddenly as he saw his own smile, he saw something else pass by the reflection on the ceiling. 

"What the hell?" 

  
Whatever it was it moved fast. So fast by the time Mike got his headphones off, and looked around, the thing was no where to be seen. 

"Hello?" 

He yelled down the hallway, hoping that he wouldn't get an answer, and that it was just that weed kicking in. He laughed as nothing was heard but, "We're off to never never land..." He put his headphones on again and continued his work. But then he heard a scream from the cafeteria. He then set down his walkman and slowly walked toward the next building. 

"Damn teens and their drunken orgies." 

He walked out the door and proceeded to the next building, his heart beating faster. He then opened the door and took a peak inside and found no one. As he moved in and saw a better view past the tables and chairs in the blue and black glow of the darkness, he found a dead beagle, but no person in sight. 

"Damn Satanists...why do they choose this place as a sacrifice altar? Now I gotta clean this up too!" 

Mike walked out of the cafeteria and back to the main building to get his supplies. He walked back inside and saw that thing on the ceiling, only it wasn't moving, but holding on, upside down. The thing was about 4 feet long, with large sharp teeth, a head with and exposed brain or brian-like flesh, and at claws on its feet and hind legs. 

"WHOA! Either that thing is some monster or I got my money's worth from that guy!" 

The creature opened its mouth and a long, 5 foot tongue slowly moved forward and curved in a snake-like fashion. It made a hissing noise, much like a deep nasal exhale. The tongue was above Mike, and a drop of saliva dripped from the tip of it onto the lowly janitor's face. 

"Oh sh*t!" 

Mike ran back for the door as soon as he realized it was no hallucination. But before he could even was in grasp of the door's metal handle, the creature was now in front of him. It stood its ground, waving back and forth in a beastly manner. Mike slowly walked back, but every step he took, so did the muscle fleshed creature. For every one squeak was heard from the heels of Mike's shoes, another was from the long claws tapping the cold floor. 

Squeek... 

Tap... 

Squeek... 

Tap... 

This pattern would continue until Mike would walk himself into a corner, then the thing would have a feast. Mike saw a fire extinguisher on the other side of the hall, he could grab it if he could dodge this thing. So Mike took a quick fake movement to the right, and the monster jumped and hit its head against the wall where the janitor would have been. So he grabbed the fire extinguisher, and turned it on toward the direction of the beast. But even with the shriek of the monster heard, when the fog lifted, the thing was no where in sight.

  
  


What the hell was that thing?" Mike muttered to himself, his voice shaken. "Some college prank? Sh*t, I better lay off this stuff," he gruffly demanded of himself, tossing his smoke to the ground, smothering the flame with the sole of his worn boots. Then... a scream, a loud, piercing woman's scream that made his skin tingle. "What the f*cking hell is going on?" 

  
In all his years as custodian of the college, Miguel Ramirez, jokingly called groundskeeper Mike by the rather callous students, had seen many strange things. The students of the University of San Francisco were notorious for their uproarious, extremely clever pranks. They were also known for their peculiar and sometimes rather raunchy eccentricities; also, the practice of Wicca among the students was not unknown, and in recent times had even become a fad of sorts. Mike did not have any moral objections, however; he simply wished they did not leave such a mess behind for him to clean up. But in his thirty-five years alive, he had never seen anything quite like the strange beast he had encountered today - like a man skinned alive, the head horribly encephalized. "Maybe those goddamn Satanists finally conjured up a damn demon..." 

Mike took in his surroundings, unable to find the strange, skinless beast in either direction of the rather extensive halls. "I probably scared it, heh. If there's someone ya don't wanna mess with, it's a janitor," he chuckled to himself, vainly trying to use humor to keep himself composed. 

His thoughts were interrupted - silently, unseen, the tapping of... something... against ceramic tile echoed throughout the hall, and it was clearly getting closer. Something was struggling to breathe, exhaling and inhaling with great exertion. His fragile composure was immediately broken, and in his mind he began to panic. He did not know where to go, but anywhere was better than here with those demons. Tossing down the fire extinguisher with a great clang, he decided that it would be best to take his leave, and quickly. He was not paid minimum wage to play hero. 

  
  


**University of San Francisco   
Residence Hall**

"She wasn't there... dammit, where is she?" Claire thought to herself, panting. She was beginning to run herself ragged in worry, but there was no time to be thinking of herself. Her adoptive daughter might be in grave danger. 

"Sorry, I haven't seen her. She's probably studying at the library, or tutoring, or some stuff like that," Sherry's roommate informed her, as Claire checked the dorm room, examining a few of Sherry's articles of clothing and personal belogings. "She's such a bookworm... not much fun at all." Claire felt like smacking her, and was quite ready do so, when she heard... it. 

It was the first scream, a girl's distant, high pitched scream that shook the blood and hastened the heart. The roommate was visibly shaken by the ill omen, and slow murmurs slowly turned to worry as the frequency of screams increased, and as their proximity closened. Campus security officers were told to keep the students calm and to hold them in the building until things were safe - which only managed to intensify the fear with the introduction of helplessness and claustrophobia. All too soon, the truth of the situation began to sink in for Claire - there was an outbreak, and this time Umbrella had the upper hand. Claire had to find Sherry quick, and to do so she would have to plunge into the sea of screams, undaunted by the warnings of campus security. She simply had to find whom she considered her daughter. 

The outside air was cool, but disturbing still. The air had a faint, stale scent... a scent remeniscent of that fateful day in Raccoon City. But she was older now, and stronger. She knew no fear, only determination to never lose all she had left, desperation to cling onto her own sanity. Fueled by passionate emotions, she left the dorm building and made haste toward the source of the outbreak. 

  
  


Mike made it to the stairs. His muscles were tense, and his heart beat like a jackhammer - he was almost sure that... whatever was following him, was catching up with him. But now he heard neither the clik-clak, nor the labored respiration that he associated with the beast. He knew he should feel relieved, but the emptiness only told him that something was wrong... very wrong. Peering momentarily through the small plastic window of the stairwell door, he pushed it open and with little hesitation made his way to the first floor, skipping and jumping steps whenever he could to save time. 

Reaching the bottom door, he was beginning to regain his composure. "Not much longer until I'm outta this hellhole," he encouraged himself. "Just a little more." He pushed the bottom stairwell door, but - it did not open. He pushed harder, and managed to budge it a little, when something clicked - something was pushing against the door, and that something was probably... 

Quickly, he jumped back as the telltale razor sharp claw burst through the small door window, showering plastic shards and wooden flakes everywhere around him. Another beast, the same beast? It did not matter to Miguel, who knew himself to be in grave danger. Looking around for escape, he saw his only means involved returning to the second floor. As the beast struggled to free its massive claw for a second strike, he began another ascent but quickly stopped, as a drop of viscous fluid dropped near his foot. He looked up to see another of the beasts clinging to the ceiling like a massive, deranged insect. He saw no recourse but to pray. 

"Dios te salve, Maria..." 

Suddenly, gunshots rang out - the claw by the door became limp as an weak, wheezing screech signified the death of the monster. The other monster, previously immotile, sprang to life at the sound of the gunshot, springing down right in front of the poor janitor. Backing up, his throat dried, his muscles tense, he was hardly able to move except for a few rapid, panicked knocks against the door. "Whoever's out there, help me, quick!" 

The door opened quickly, and the skinless beast from outside the door slid down dead, its own discolored blood smattered upon the white door. In the doorway stood a very strong looking woman - in her determined eyes, Mike saw that she was a fighter. Her expression toward the beast was cold, and she only glanced at her former prey for a moment before turning to Miguel's predator. She seemed to say something under her breath, barely mouthing the words... 

Mike felt no more fear. He was in awe of this strong, beautiful brown haired woman. She looked at the skinless creature with a petrifying glare that bordered on desperation. In her zeal, she uttered under her breath, almost silently, those words... 

"Never again."


	3. Hidden Agendas

_In the conservative region far from the chaotic edge, individual elements coalesce slowly, showing no clear pattern." _

_--Ian Malcom, "Lost World" _

**Umbrella Headquarters **

The round, marble-top table with the Umbrella logo on a black background was the only clearly visible thing in the conference room, the exception being the single metal door activated only by a retinal scan, the electronic device to do just that to the left of the portal. 

Nine there were around the darkened table. Silhouettes were all that could be seen, but voices were clearly heard. The echo that bounced throughout the room alluded to the true dimensions of the chamber. The gavel that knocked hard on the table was an explosion, with the assistance of the room's acoustics. 

The Regent cleared his throat and spoke, a deep, slightly raspy voice that would cough a smoker's cough every now and then. "We have all been called in here for a specific purpose. I believe you all know what that is." 

The general murmur told the Regent that yes, they did know. The Board of Directors were a difficult bunch to work with, all with varying opinions that very rarely agree with any other one, but that did not mean they were unintelligent. 

The Regent stood from his chair, the silhouette showing him to be an aging man, but with a proud stance. However, his pride could do nothing to change the gravity of the inevitable statement: "Our corporation is dying." 

  
  


**University of San Francisco **

Brian hated the traffic in San Francisco. With the sense of urgency pushing him onward to the campus, and the sounds of screaming over the channel clearly audible, he pushed his Santa Fe as fast as it would go, the surprisingly nimble SUV weaving through the traffic lanes and speeding through intersections like a car with twice as low a center of gravity. All that West didn't even notice - his foot was on the accelerator, and he was not letting it off. 

He sped west on Geary Boulevard, finding an ambulance with its lights and sirens wailing. Jacking into the police channel with his scanner, he found the ambulance was heading to St. Mary's Medical Center, with a heart attack patient. _Bingo. _

West hit the gas, evading a diesel truck and a van full of teens from a church youth group to catch up to the ambulance, keeping within four feet of the emergency vehicle's bumper. He could hear over the channel the 'medics reporting a drafter, but as the city police moved alongside him, Brian showed his ID, and the squad cars backed off, reporting that he had clearance to do what he was doing. The good thing about the Agency was the fact that they could create perfect copies of any badge or ID necessary. 

The ambulance swerved sharply left (turning south) on Stanyan Street. _About nineteen hundred more feet with this beast. Come on, push it! _Cars hit either side of the road to make way for the ambulance and the silver SUV speeding behind it, until the intersection of Stanyan and Fulton. As the ambulance sped right on through the stoplight to the Medical Center, which was just across the street, Brian turned left, power-sliding onto Fulton, and hitting a hundred miles per hour on the final three hundred foot straightaway, past the Negoesco Stadium and skidding to a stop in the parking lot just beside Phelan Hall, which at one time was a combination of a Bookstore, and a Disability Service Center, but had been renovated and remade into an out-and-out medical building. 

The glass on the passenger window shattered as a pair of mangled and near-skinless hands attempted to reach for Brian. The Class-1's head came into view, a wide, balding one with a pair of spectacles and a full set of near-black teeth. Skin peeled off in folds, like a sunburn gone horribly wrong. Had there not be pure muscle and blood underneath the layer of skin, one might actually believe that. 

West drew his .45s and triggered two shots into the forehead of the Number One. One bullet missed wide and broke through the glass of an adjacent BMW's driver window, while the other struck home in the dome of the One, sending blood flying in spurts on the window, dash, and upholstery of the SUV, getting more than a little on him, as well. Brian kicked the beast out of his Santa Fe, and it lay sprawled on the ground. 

Screaming from the other side brought his attention to a young woman racing away from a pair of Class-Twos. The Cerberuses circled about her, and as West rushed to open the door and roll out to help, one of the mutated dogs latched on to her backpack and pulled, forcing her to tumble onto her back, and now only had time to scream as both canines feasted upon living flesh. 

Brian looked away from the sight. His instincts kicked in as the need for stealth increased. _These things are great at tracking you. Getting caught by a BOW because I was being too loud is something I don't want to have to answer to the Director for... if I make it out alive. _

West took out a pair of silencers for the Match 45s. 

  
  
  


"Lashing out in the manner that you propose is preposterous! We have a budding outbreak that we are doing _nothing_ about, and you're saying that we should follow-up with more strikes!" The Media Director stood from her seat. She was a younger one, probably in her mid-thirties. 

"We have no other option." The Director of Security was a stoic man. He had neither life nor death in his voice. Cold, emotionless logic was the order of the day. 

"I disagree," the confident Director of Special Projects interjected. "I believe we do have a better option." 

The Regent quirked an eyebrow. "And that is?" 

The Special Projects Director smiled. "It's simple. We call up Alpha." 

  
  
  


  
Getting out of the SUV completely, and closing it up, he decided that he didn't need to lock it. If anything got to it, it probably wouldn't know how to open doors, and he may need to make a quick exit. 

_Think fast, Brian. What're you going to do? _  
The only logical choice West could think of was a quick and quiet evacuation of everyone he could. He strained to hear - screaming and shots were audible. And close. 

West sprinted for the source of the sound. Moving around Phelan Hall, he could see the mayhem before him. The bodies were few, but the violence was enough for a hundred deaths. A few students and faculty alike were visibly slashed, gouged, and ultimately chewed, to death, and slowly at that. Brian took in a deep breath to calm his nerves as he nimbly rushed past the graveyard and made his way for the library. 

Watching his back for any sort of surprise, he slowly strode to the stairs that led up to the glass double-doors. 

He was met by a muzzle flash from within the darknened entrance, and the glass shattering before him. 

  
  
  


"And what about STARS? You know they're going to come after us in full force the second they catch wind of the San Francisco outbreak. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't already coming!" 

"Chances are, they probably are packing up for an assault." 

"So, what are we going to do about that?" 

"The best defense is a good offense." 

  
  
  


_Holy shit!_ Brian rolled left, nearly hitting the bar that served as a way to steady those walking up the stairs. He brought up his pistols and fired at the figure in the shadowed library, the spits of air being the only indication that the bullets even left the chamber. It was only after missing twice and taking pieces out of the shelf next to her did he realize there were two figures there, both of whom moved behind the bookshelves for cover. 

"Sh...!" Claire pushed Mike to the side and hit the pavement. 

West recognized the voice immediately. "Claire!" he hissed. 

Redfield slowly moved out from her cover. "Brian?"   
  
Brian nodded. "You okay?" 

She nodded her affirmation. "Damn, Brian, take the jacket off!" Claire pointed. 

It was then when West remembered that he was still wearing the attire of Umbrella's security force. Infiltration seemed a mile away, now. It was time to rock and roll. He took off the cursed outer jacket with the Umbrella insignia all over it and left it on the floor. "Sherry with you?" 

Claire pulled Mike from behind the bookcase. A mixture of worry, concern and motherly love was prominent in her expression. "No." It seemed that the simple statement pained her already. 

Brian looked at the janitor. "Did you carry a broom?" 

"Yeah..." 

West handed him a Match 45 and a clip. "Now you carry a gun. Point and shoot. And shoot. And shoot. If you're not sure if it's dead, you shoot some more. Got it?" 

Mike nodded. 

Brian stretched his neck and popped it. He looked to Claire, who's worry did nothing to mar her loveliness. He smiled the confident smile of an established agent in the Central Intelligence Agency. "Now, let's see if we can't find Miss Birkin." 

  
  
  


The meeting took thirty minutes. Years of conflict and power plays were less productive than half an hour of immediate preparation, and none of the bullsh*t that usually went with the job. 

Soon after, a phone call was made. The conversation lasted five minutes.

  
  


  
**University of San Francisco **

A man moves silently across the stone path that crosses the garden. He looks around, and then his eyes scan the floor in front of him. A cell phone lay abandoned on the grass, a few inches away from the path. 

The man crouches and carefully picks it up. The name "Sherry" is displayed on the small LCD. After examining it for a few seconds he presses the key that dials the last number called. 

  
  
  


**STARS San Franciso Office **

The telephone rang, an unusual event at that time of the night. Jill frowned, reaching for the receiver. 

"Valentine." 

The voice that replied belonged to a man. He spoke quietly, trying to hide his voice. "Valentine? Is that the S.T.A.R.S. office?" 

"Yes, it is... Who's speaking?" 

"*Click*" 

"Well... That was odd." 

  
  
  


"It is safe to assume that the S.T.A.R.S. already know about the outbreak. They are probably already here..." 

The man pocketed the phone and kept walking. 

  
  
  


  
  



	4. The Chaos Theory

**University of San Francisco  
Cafeteria Parking Lot **

"Birkin..." 

Yes, it had spoken. Sherry had never seen a B.O.W. speak, but she had already heard about such creatures. 

Isaac looked at the slowly advancing giant, and then at Sherry. "What did it say?" 

"It said... 'Birkin'. My last name." 

Sherry remembered Jill's words. The S.T.A.R.S. member who had looked in the face of death within the nightmare of Raccoon City never showed fear, except when she spoke of the _Nemesis_. A monster that could not be outrun, could not be deceived, and could not be killed. 

"Birkin..." The deep voice repeated. Sherry and Isaac kept staring at the only eye in the deformed face, barely aware that the mutant was less than five feet from them. 

Suddenly, a long purple tentacle shot out of the black trenchcoat the monster was wearing. It swung like a whip, and hit both students in the ribcage. Tossed more than three yards away, Isaac strained to stand up again, and saw that Sherry was the target of a new attack. The humanoid roared, raised the purple whip and hit Sherry again with it. 

"Aaahh! Help! _Agh_!" 

_Think, think! What can I do?_ He looked around, but could find nothing of use. Desperate, Isaac grabbed a stone on the floor, tossed it at the mutant's back, and yelled out "Leave her alone!" 

That seemed to distract the giant for a mere second, but it was enough for Sherry to roll out of the way as another tentacle tried to hit her. She stood up and ran, ran as fast as her legs would allow her, Isaac right behind her, and the monster at the rear. 

"_Birkin_!" 

"I think we pissed him off!" 

"I think that thing can't be any more pissed than it already was!" 

They ran along the wall of the cafeteria building, and turned right at the corner. Sherry bumped into something that made her fall on the floor, and that something fell to the floor as well. 

"_Ow_! What the hell..." 

It was a woman. Isaac recognized the blond hair and hazel eyes. "Susan!" 

"Isaac?" 

"Birkin..." 

The three of them looked at the massive figure that appeared from behind the building, and gasped at the same time. Susan managed to utter a "What the hell is that?", while pulling a 9mm handgun from her pocket. She fired at the mutant's head, but it merely twitched, and kept coming. 

The three humans scattered, each of them in a different direction. 

"Bir... kin..." The huge humanoid seemed confused. It looked around, as if it couldn't decide who to attack. Susan gulped, and looked at her two fellow humans. 

After a few seconds, it looked at Sherry and charged at her. She dodged and backed off, as the monster's powerful knuckle hit the gas cylinders in the back of the kitchen. A loud hissing indicated a leak, and everyone had the same thought. The monster, Isaac and Sherry looked at Susan as she raised the gun and fired a round at the tanks.

  
  


  
  


As Sherry turned to run from the monstrosity, she could hear it bellow in rage, just before her entire world went silent. Sights, sounds, and even gravity itself collided, as Sherry was hurtled several dozen yards in a random direction, landing with a thud on one of the campus' many well kept lawns. Sherry remained motionless, staring at the Milky Way, the shock to her senses, and the ringing in her ears too much to deal with all at once. Sherry felt a slight trickle of blood run down the side of her face, but still lacked the strength to sit up. Sherry looked into the night, as the silence was broken by the muffled, distant screams of Isaac and Susan. 

  


  


  
**Washington D.C.  
Undisclosed location   
in the suburbs. **

The clock on the nightstand read 4:42, but that never stopped the phone from ringing. It rang with an urgency to it that told Carlos he'd better answer. Rolling over with a groan, he blindly reached for the receiver and managed to knock his keys, wallet, and .357 off the nightstand before finally finding it. Knowing he wasn't going to like whatever came from the other end, he brought it to his ear, and managed a half garbled greeting that somewhat resembled English. Carlos listened for a long time, chiming in with the occasional 'uh-huh', and 'okay'. 

After a very long one sided conversation, he asked a few questions, listened intently, then hung up without a formal goodbye. Carlos switched the light on with a hollow click, and gently shook the form lying next to him. 

"Come on... we got a mess to clean up." 

"Oh, God, what time is it?" a soft feminine voice called from under the covers. 

"You don't want to know..." He called back, grabbing some clothes from the dresser. "'Sides, y'know Umbrella is always open twenty-four-seven. Listen up, we got a problem in 'Frisco. Looks like those uppity grisanos started an outbreak at 'Frisco University." 

"You mean Sherry?" The voice called back as the woman pulled the covers down, revealing long red hair, and a face full of freckles. 

"'Fraid so Becca." Carlos called back as he piled the clothes on top of the counter in the bathroom. "After all diz time, I guezz dey got impachent er sumtin. A full strike haz been ordered on Umbrella; Barry and his crack squadron of N.A.T.O. thugs is already on dere way to Umbrella's headquarters. Tha N.S.A. wants us to head ta Frisco lickity split, and meet up wit Jill an Claire. So, getta move on it red, our jet leaves in 40." 

Rebecca groaned, and yanked the covers back over her head. "What safe house we using?" she asked as Carlos turned the water on. 

"Number 12" He responded, slipping out of his boxers. 

"What's the update on Leon?" She questioned as she gave up on getting any sleep, and rolled out of bed. 

"Like I'm supposed to know?" Carlos finished with a shrug. 

"Do they know what caused it? Was it a lab, or did they just release it on campus?"  
  
"They don't know... I guess they were more preoccupied with not dyin' at the time." Carlos added just to be a smartass. 

Rebecca acknowledged the same, and went about getting ready for war. 

  
  


The Nemisis wasn't down for long, pulling itself up the way it was programmed to. The beast looked out as Isaac and Susan ran towards his target, apparently trying to stop him, but he was going to crush her anyway. He bellowed into the night as he charged, reveling in the tormented screams of his next victims. How he would savor the sensation of draining the life out of them as he watched in fascination. He thought about how he would make them suffer for trying to escape, when something hit him so hard in the gut he stopped dead, doubled over, and looking at the ground. 

  
  


  
Isaac was scared witless, and then utterly confused as the monster, roared at them, ran towards them at top speed, then stopped ten feet away. The creature doubled over, crying out in obvious pain, tried to right itself, and almost seemed to scream as its chest burst forth, creating a hollow passage that Isaac could see straight through. The creature then lifted off the ground, and hovered for several seconds before its head was ripped clean off by some unseen force. The air behind the headless body shimmered briefly, before the image of something far worse appeared out of nowhere, holding the decapitated B.O.W. up for inspection. 

"Crude, somewhat affective, but past it's time." The thing said, much to the amazement of everyone; including Sherry who had since regained enough balance to sit up. The thing retracted it's claw, allowing the body to slump to the ground. Focusing it's attention on the group, it looked directly at Sherry and told her something that frightened even more than the sight of the eight foot tall, and extremely deadly B.O.W.. "The Birkin child....you are lucky you're not dead right here and now. You still have yet to fulfill your task, and I am to make sure you do." It said before it turned away, and once again shimmered from view. 

  
  
  


**Umbrella Headquarters**

The media director walked into the room, and slammed her briefcase down on the tabletop loud enough to get everyone's attention. "I was right....S.T.A.R.S. IS already on it's way here, and the outbreak continues to spread." 

"So? We evacuate." The Regent responded. "We'll be gone long before they ever get here. But that's not important. What I need to know is where is the Birkin brat? We still need her." 

The special projects director chimed in. "We've already initiated the C.R.F. project: Code name NT-004" 

"_Goddammit!_ Alpha is MORE than capable of handling this situation on it's own, and now the whole damn campus is gonna get leveled." 

"Alpha team was told that 004 was to be given full field command when they arrived. They weren't exactly built with brains in mind." He said raising an eyebrow. 

"I guess you're right." The Regent sighed. "Have they found the lab yet?" He asked. 

"No they haven't..." The Media director said sternly. 

"Good...." The Regent said looking directly at the Special Projects Director. "Tell 004 to make sure they don't."

_"Self-organization elaborates in complexity as the system advances toward the chaotic edge."  
--Ian Malcon, "Lost World" _

  


**San Francisco, California  
University of San Francisco  
December 6th, 2007 **

_3:25 am Pacific Time _

Brian was exhausted beyond measure. Adrenaline and instinct had long since kicked in, when the first scream came over the wire. He frantically ran throughout the campus of the college, with Claire and Mike in tow, Claire expertly covering West, and the janitor still having a hard time actually holding a pistol in his hand. Stopping near the Professional Arts building, he waited around the corner. The darkness made visibility extremely tough, but the biting cold air from the nearby bay assisted Brian in hearing the evils around him. 

He could hear a couple of Class-Ones feasting upon a fallen human, probably no more than fifteen feet away, and right up against the wall, around the corner. The taps and panting of dogs circling the kill were likewise audible. 

_Nice doggy,_ he thought to himself. He looked back to Claire and Mike. "The breeze is moving our scent away from them, but it's not going to be long before--" 

_Grrrr... _

  
  


**Umbrella Headquarters **

The meeting was recessed, and issues for many were far from resolved. Each member of the Council went their own separate ways, to their separate offices, and some with their separate and younger mistresses, relieving the tension from an hour of pure debate over how to go about saving their dying corporation. 

No one left actually satisfied with the result, thus far. Especially for the Director of Security. Timothy Simonec absolutely did not trust the Special Projects Director. Scientists were never meant to put their experiments in the field. Their place was to test and test and test again, until they believed they had a finished product, and then the true experts in field operations would put them to use. This doctor's blind faith in his division's own creations was frightening. 

_The scientists are going to tear us apart. We're losing money - I've taken three pay cuts, as it is, along with everyone. Wasting valuable specimens like that is going to get us nowhere. _

Alpha was a risk. A major one. One that Simonec did not believe in taking. Sometimes, the tried and true method was what they needed. Old methods were not always outdated. Getting to his office, he locked the door and activated his soundproofing mechanism. Taking off his coat jacket and tossing it over his black leather chair, he pulled out a cigarette and lit up as he sat on his desk. 

_I've got no other choice._ They needed a Fixer. 

Picking up the phone, he connected to the Security Divison switchboard. Melody picked up the phone, her voice matching her name. "Ready-One." 

"Contact Omega. Priority-One. Send a helicopter to his estate immediately, with the file I'm going to come over there with, and with all his equipment. Mission objectives are to be given en route, and subtlety is required for this mission." 

"I'll get on it right away." 

  
  


**HCF/ES Headquarters,  
Beverly Hills, California   
December 6th, 2007 **  
_3:45 am_

  
The gigantic auditorium normally used for big presentations with other companies or environmentalist groups was now being used for an event that was more like a PTA meeting gone horribly wrong. 

The four people wearing conservative business suits watched the tapes of the fiasco through a number of different monitors in the Viewing Room of the HCF Environmental Safety Division Headquarters. HCF/ES was a compromise made by John Elliott, to keep the peace amongst radical environmentalist groups like Greenpeace. Working hand-in-hand with the EPA, they kept both HCF in line and assisted in investigating what Umbrella was up to. 

Little did the EPA know that they were trying to take over their parent company, completely. 

The youngest of the suits, a man of twenty-four, bobbed his head up and down only slightly while watching the commotion, while careful not to shake the soda can in his hand. "Wild bunch, aren't they?" 

The woman of twenty-eight standing to the left of him nodded in affirmation. "Hmm, Yes. Yes they are." 

A rough-looking man, standing to her right, frowned. "You sure they're up for the job?" 

The man that was separated from the three responded, "They will be adequate. The young ones will be, at least." 

Young Man turned to look at him and gave him a smirk. "Hell, we're the young ones. You're the oldest, and you're not even over forty." 

"True, but that doesn't change the fact that the younger ones will be the ones to watch for. They're the idealists, the ones that believe parts of HCF are truly evil for wanting to shift to genetics." 

The woman scoffed. "Makes me feel stupid to even be in the same generation as these, these-" 

"Morons?" Roughneck offered. 

"I was thinking more along the lines of ignorant souls, but yes, that'll work as well." 

There was a pause between them as the group got riled up again. Finally, the Outcast spoke up. "Tell me again why we're trying to distance ourselves from a hundred billion dollar company." 

Young Man turned around and leaned back against the mirror. "Survival and economics. The extremists, one way or another, are gonna strike out against HCF the second they realize their biggest supporter is moving to work on projects that supposedly 'is the rape of Mother Nature'. They'll do anything possible to discourage people from working with HCF and to keep people from using HCF products." 

"That includes murder," the woman said simply. 

"Yes, including murder. They did it and will do it again if they believe that it will further their cause. Anyway, if we don't do anything and keep working one hundred percent under HCF, the extremists will destroy us. As apart of the Chemical R-and-D Division, Elliott gave us plenty of leash, just enough to hang us, but he may have given us just enough to stay out of his grasp if we decide to cut the leash off. 

"We can totally sever all contact with HCF and take with us at most ten billion dollars, and four billion at the least. It depends on how our lawyers can work it. With that cash, we can start pretty much all over, or we can work the stocks with it and just live rich for the rest of our lives." 

Outcast smiled. "I can hear a third option coming." 

Young Man nodded. "If we declare independence from the change of venue, not only are we entitled to ten billion, we will virtually still be apart of HCF, however we can do pretty much anything we want. That means we avoid the wrath of the tree-huggers, we get a few bucks, and we are eligible to take over all of HCF in the event that something happens to Dr. John Elliott, and with the security force on our side, we can accomplish it." 

"Where do these guys come in?" Roughneck asked. 

"M&M. Media and Money." 

"Okay, explain." 

"Well," Young Man finally opened the soda can that had been in his hand, "let's say for a second that we do split up from HCF and go it alone. We end up looking like idealists that believe we can work without having a huge company to back us up in case we fail. But, by sticking with HCF while backing up the environmentalists, we show that there is a division within the company. 

"People like stability in a company. The ones that don't care if HCF shifts to bio-engineering will care if the company is divided and now unpredictable. Stocks'll plummet because of that, thereby discrediting John Elliott. And guess who will be in a position to take control of the company?" 

"We will," the woman concluded. 

"Exactly. However, the question is, do we want to?" 

"What?" Outcast looked at the young man incredulously. "Hell yes we want to! What in the world put that question in your mind?" 

"History and logic," Young Man shot back calmly. "HCF is known for being ruthless in dealing with competitors, and John Elliott is not going to go down without a fight. This is going to be long, it's going to be painful, and it might even be lethal. The question isn't whether or not we can get it done. The question is, can we survive it?" 

Roughneck frowned. "But doesn't the gain outweigh the risk?" 

"It might, but this is going to be an all out battle if we do this. Politically and physically, we will be fighting with Elliott and the whole of HCF, and we don't have a product to sell to even give us a purpose." 

"Yes we do," Outcast said softly. 

Woman looked at him curiously. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Outcast smirked to the other three. "When we went through our two-year stint assisting the EPA in the inspection of a certain genetic corporation, I've sent squads of our security force with the inspectors. Whatever we found, we confiscated, promising that we would turn all that we found back over once we analyzed it and knew what it was." 

"But you didn't," Roughneck said. 

Outcast shrugged. "Yes and no. We sent the samples back. The research, on the other hand, we kept a copy of. In essence we have everything." 

Woman frowned. "What do you mean, 'everything'?" 

Outcast pulled out a folder from the desk behind him and tossed it on the table in the middle of the room. "I mean, _everything._ Tell me something, my friends, do you know what the T-virus is?"

  
  


**Hat Creek, California **

  
The deer was thirty feet in front of him. Easy kill. 

Alan Carson raised the rifle to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel. He never used a scope for hunting, and considered anyone who used a scope to not be a real hunter. In his opinion, real hunters could get close enough that they could kill a deer with a handgun, no high-powered rifle needed. Carson used a small rifle when he hunted, and carried a pistol and knife for backup. 

A shot rang out. 

The deer collapsed. 

Carson straightened to his full height of 6'1". He brushed some brown hair out of his eyes as he approached the kill. The deer had never seen him. Deer, human, or other, they never saw him in time. 

Alan Carson had been a hunter for about nine years now. One of his first hunts had been to obtain a G-Virus sample from destroyed Raccoon City. He'd worked with a team then. Now, at age thirty-two, he mostly worked alone. He was muscular and well-built, looking kinda like a Mr. Universe contestant. His teammates on the G sample team had nicknamed him "Hunk" because of this, and he still lived up to the named nine years later. His eyes were emotionless most of the time, his mouth a thin line. Umbrella called him Omega. Some others called him "Death." 

He lived up to all of these names. He had spent nine years hunting things Umbrella wanted, and sometimes things they didn't want. These things he eliminated for them. They paid him well, but jobs were becoming sparser over the years. Hunk had taken to deer hunting both to stock his freezer and as a way to fight boredom. 

He bent and lifted the stag. The rack was only five points but Hunk didn't care. Trophies weren't his thing. He got his enjoyment from the hunt. 

  
  


Hunk shoved open the back door to his small cottage-like dwelling, and grabbed a knife from the rack next to his cutting board. Taking the knife back outside, he knelt and began to skin the deer on the back porch. As his hands went through the routine motions, his mind wandered. Umbrella hadn't called with a job for four or five months now, and Hunk was considering finding a new employer. The company he worked for was definitely sinking, and he was sure he didn't want to go down with that ship. Then again, deer hunting was becoming less entertaining as well. Maybe he ought to try bear hunting, that would certainly be more of a challenge- 

The phone ringing inside interrupted his thoughts, and he set the deer down, and went inside to answer it. Probably some telemarketer wanting him to buy a new piece of crap with a guaranteed warranty that ran out as soon as the item arrived. However, when he lifted the receiver to his ear, a whole different kind of sales pitch came through. 

"Alan Carson?" the voice asked. It was a feminine one, rather musical sounding. After receiving an affirmative, she asked for his Umbrella ID number. Carson was startled for a moment, but then smiled and gave it. It seemed Umbrella was finally hitting the right notes again. The message that followed was a symphony to his ears. 

"You are to report to Umbrella offices in San Francisco in thirty minutes. Umbrella has a problem that requires your special skills. Something is going on at the University of San Francisco, something that Umbrella needs cleaned up fast. You are to go in and eliminate all escaped hostiles, and destroy any and all evidence linking Umbrella to the problem. Also, the Board wants you to save as many survivors as you can. Feel free to play hero, Umbrella needs the good PR right now. That's all I can give you over the phone. A chopper will arrive at your house in ten minutes. The chopper will have equipment and a full briefing for you when it gets there. Don't be late." The Umbrella end of the line went dead. 

Hunk replaced the phone in its cradle and smiled. Finally a job to do, something to fix. Umbrella was no doubt going to put up a lot for his services this time. By the way the woman had been talking he had a feeling Umbrella had dumped another sh*tload of T-Virus, this time at the University. Idiots never seemed to be able to keep their research contained. Oh well. More jobs, and more hunts, for him to take. 

Hunk grabbed his jacket again. Exactly nine minutes and fifty seconds later, the chopper touched down in his back yard. He jumped in and started to go through the paper briefing he was handed even as he strapped on his gear and checked his weapons. 

The next few hours looked to offer a good challenge for him. Hunk smiled, a wolfish grin.


End file.
